Say Your Prayers, Little One
by Chocolate Boy
Summary: Dean fights against his lust for the new hunter in town. Dean/OC
1. Beginnings

**Hello friends. Thanks for taking a look at this story. Been a while since I've uploaded something on this site and I'm a bit rusty, but I'm really glad to be back for however long it may last. I've had this story planned for years and I've finally got the first few chappies down. Here's the first one. **

Say Your Prayers, Little One

Beginnings

"Goddammit, Bobby, why not!" Dean whined like a spoiled rotten seven year old. For two hours he'd been nagging Bobby to be his hunting partner only to be turned down like a pimple faced nerd. He sneered at the old man and his stubborn ways. "It'll only be a week long hunt. Something you can handle it in your sleep."

"Ya answered your own question," Bobby said, maneuvering around an in-the-way Dean. These were one of the many times Dean felt like that damn man's son. He was on him like a shadow, never letting up with his endless protests.

Spreading a thin helping of mayo onto a piece of pumpernickel, Bobby shook his head. "I got my hand's full with the other hunters who just like you all need my assistance. Like you said, this hunt shouldn't take longer than a week. You don't need me to do the damn job for you now do ya?"

"Depends, would you?" Dean slurped loudly on his flat beer. He took a seat at the small table in Bobby's kitchen and tried his best to keep from fidgeting impatiently. "Stop with the excuses, this is all so you can catch the Dr. Sexy marathon isn't it?"

"You caught me." Bobby's sarcastic tone was dry and uninterested."It's times I wonder how do you do it."

"This mystery partner you want to me with, what's she like," Dean asked.

"Fine."

"Because I'm telling you now Bobby, my name's not Uncle Buck okay – I'm not anyone's damn babysitter and if they're one flew over the-"

"Quit your moping, boy." Bobby carefully placed thin slices of tomato onto what looked to be the construction of a damn good sandwich. "Diem ain't a baby the doctor freshly slapped on the ass. If you don't like the hunters I give you tough. Grow a pair and suck it up or do it on your lonesome."

Dean sighed, partly because Bobby was right, partly because he didn't get offered a piece of that sandwich. It didn't even have to be a big piece, he would've accepted a small corner. "Just answer me one thing," he said, "is she a weird one?"

Bobby stiffened, shifting his eyes back towards his plate. Silence curled around them, tightening into a vice grip that left no room for squirming. Dean watched as the hunter folded under pressure. All his worries had been validated.

"That's it, we're nixing the plan for a new one. You're doing the hunt, I'm getting Sam." Jerking from his chair, Dean angrily marched from the kitchen to the living room. He didn't give a shit about What's Eating Sam Winchester, he wasn't going to deal with another under qualified hunter who'd only get in the way. "I'm not taking one for the team and getting dumped with some looney hunter."

"She ain't no weirder than the rest of us in the business," Bobby called, this time trailing after Dean. "Find me a hunter who isn't a little wacko and I'll get you an Angel-"

"Who wears trench coats and fails to grasp anything pop-culture related? Good. Tell Cas I need to talk to him."

"You know I'm not one to meddle in family affairs, but I like to think that after all these years I earned the right to do so with you boys," Bobby said. "You gotta let Sam have some breathing room. You two are with each other day in and day out, conjoined twins get more alone time than you two. It gets taxing on anyone."

True, maybe Sam did need some time by himself to regroup, but it was the way he went about things that'd struck a chord with Dean.

Sam told him he needed a week off from the job. Dean of course told his younger brother where he could stick his vacation and laughed it off before falling into an alcohol-induced sleep. The next morning he awoke up to both Sam and the Impala m.i.a..

Sam leaving was one thing, he always ran off when the heat in the kitchen got a little too hot for him, but taking the Impala was an act of war. There were things in this world that you just don't do. You don't drink beer before liquor, you don't mess with the Zohan, and you definitely don't touch the Impala. Sammy was daring Dean to try and find him. He was testing his manhood so to speak.

"Can you do me a solid and take the job or not?"

"Fine, I'll do the case for you," Bobby spat. "But no more, Dean. I'm serious. Your obligations don't get put on hold because you and your brother can't play in the sandbox nicely."

"I owe ya one."

"You can't just force him into in your car and hold him against his will, he's a grown man, Dean."

"Watch." Shrugging on his leather jacket, Dean fished for his keys in his pant's pocket. He smiled triumphantly at the tintinnabulation they made whilst he jingled them. "That's what older brothers do and I'd love to kick his ass if he tried to stop me."

Dean got into his 'car', a dingy pickup truck, with a one-track mind of hunting his brother down.

Wherever he was.


	2. Fruit

**Thank you so much to everyone who left any sort of response to this story. I appreciate every read, review, alert, and favorite. I had fun writing this one, I hope you all like it too. **

Fruit

The smell of dirt, fresh flowers, and parsley made Dean sick. The stench was what he thought Woodstock would reek like and he cut off his sense of smell just to ignore it. He pushed his way through the loitering flower people shopping in the Farmer's Market. Each aisle was congested with patrons carrying pansy wicker baskets adorned in daisies. Had he known he was walking into hippy territory he would've called off all bets. His brother was nowhere to be found amongst the crowd.

Dean's muscles tensed as he hung his head low in frustration. The vibrant shades of the yellow, green, and orange produce became one, blurring together while Dean kept pacing in the store. Adrenaline rushed through him as time continued to tick away. He could feel every second slip by like a ghost, making the hair on his arms raise to attention. There wasn't a nanosecond he could spare and he wouldn't allow his frustrations to get the better of him. He wouldn't stop his search of Sam even if the task was becoming more hopeless. This was his fourth go-round in the store. He was losing patience and as a result became desperate - left with no other option.

"HEY! LISTEN UP!" Dean hollered. He pushed his voice above the soft female vocalist who yodeled to indie music playing out of camouflaged speakers. Some patrons ignored his sudden outburst, continuing to fill their baskets with organic kale or whatever yuppies liked to eat. Many onlookers however, stopped to offer him their attention. "Has anyone seen Sam Winchester?"

The crowd kept silent and even a few aggravated customers resumed shopping. It took Dean a second to understand why they appeared confused, but the problem resolved itself once an elderly man limped forward asking in a frail kind voice, "who?"

Quickly he whipped out his phone and found the first picture of his brother that he could.

"This man," Dean said. "Tall, dorky, really bad haircut. He drives the impala outside. Ringing any bells?"

Nothing but silence remained. He felt like a depressed father showing others a milk carton with his missing son's picture on it. Like everything was a lost cause.

"Come on!" He pushed his phone closer in their faces and practically down their throats. "You were all busy buying bean sprouts and lemongrass tea or whatever the hell you guys call food, but you can't tell me that any of you noticed this grown man. He's taller than the ceiling lights!"

The faces of those Dean was speaking with appeared either dumbfounded, uninterested, or sympathetic that they couldn't help assist him. All but one. There was one woman who stood out from the crowd. One pointy needle in a haystack of crumbling leaves. He'd found Waldo.

She placed herself towards the back end of the group and perhaps Dean wouldn't have noticed her had it not been for the electric blue American Eagle hoodie she wore. It was the only pop of color in the monotonous crowd that caught his eye. Her head was covered with its hood, black hair spilling from either side of her face. Dean guessed she was trying to keep a low profile, but her eyes were wide with shock like a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

She sucked in a breath when they locked gazes. The moment faded quickly like smoke on the water. She lowered her head sheepishly, recoiling away from the masses of people as though she would go undetected and Dean would forget all about her. With every step she took backwards, Dean took twice as many forward. He felt like a cat cornering a helpless mouse until suddenly, she took off running.

He had to admit it threw him off to see her speed away, but it didn't take long for him to chase after her. They were both ducking and dodging the shoppers, she a little more gracefully than Dean, but he blamed that on size difference. He was a man, built and sturdy like a pillar. She was lean and lithe, tiptoeing like a ballerina.

Looking over her shoulder, once she noticed Dean at her heels she threw her basket of food at him. A pineapple hit him hard in the chest and he groaned from the sudden impact. That didn't deter him. His mind was focused solely on catching her as he trampled over the apples and other fruits he couldn't identify beneath his feet. She made a hard right, pushing through the exit door and ran down the barren parking lot. Dean called after her and heard no response. He hated to admit it, but she was faster than him.

Refusing to quit, he ran as hard as he could after her even if the burn in his chest advised him otherwise. Mud splattered against his boots and the muggy air made it hard to take proper breaths. He persisted. He hated to lose and this was becoming less and less about finding Sam and more about catching her just to win their chase.

The all too familiar sound of a car engine forced Dean to stagger to a stop. The low purr of his Impala caught his ear and he frowned. Had he missed Sam? The reason why he came to the market was because he tracked his car down and found it parked outside. Unless he had stealth on his side, Sam wasn't to be found.

When the Impala pulled out its parking spot and Dean caught sight of the driver everything fell into place. The girl in the blue hoodie was behind the wheel of his car. Dean thought that there wasn't much that could surprise him anymore, but the sight of a women driving his baby was new to him. He felt as empty as a hollow point bullet, or like the casings that fell from a fired shotgun - like he was a shell of himself.

That was before disgust took over.

"You!" he snarled. "Get out of my car. Right now."

He blocked her exit and stood before the front of his car. His steely glare matched hers and this time she didn't cower away. She seemed willing and able to do whatever she wanted. A helluva lot more confident than when she was picking out veggies.

"Shut up and move out of my way, Dean," she shouted back. He didn't remember telling her his name. "Leave me alone and find yourself some business."

He was about to take a step forward, but sound of the Impala's engine revving stopped him before his foot could hit the ground. Her eyes were low and filled with danger. There was a pleased smirk at the corner of her lips, he could see it even through the tinted windshield. It didn't take much for Dean to figure out she was threatening him.

"What you're gonna run me over?" he mocked. "You wouldn't dare."

The screech of tires against dirt hit his ear and his car shot off like a bat out of hell. It flew towards him, ready to flatten him like a motel mattress. His reaction time was his saving grace and he jumped to the side, missing being pummeled within an inch of his life. He watched as his car fled the scene, becoming nothing more than a tiny ant in the distance.

"This isn't over." He grabbed his own keys and ran to his car. He jumped in, started the ignition, and followed after wherever she was headed. Because wherever she was, he was willing to bet Sam wasn't too far behind.


	3. Getaway

**Thanks so much for reading. **

Getaway

Sam stretched his body along a suede brown couch. His head rested on one of its arms while his legs dangled over the other. He tried to focus on the small print words of the journal he attempted to read. It was falling apart by its leather binding. The pages were a tarnished dark color as if coffee accidentally were spilled on it. Perhaps it was age that'd blemished the book. There was no title on its cover or along its spine and it didn't dare mention an author or whom the book formerly belonged to. There was however, a scribe on the upper hand corner of the first page. Written with an ink quill, the message cautioned the reader.

_Lucifer's Calvary. Fare with trepidation._

Sam tried to read the handwritten encyclopedia of Demons but his mind was stuck on one person. The line breaks diminished and nothing but black dizzied his vision as words began to overlap. He tossed the book on the wooden coffee table in front of him. Light reading wouldn't solve his restless mind. He fidgeted and thrashed about as his body attempted to find a position that was compatible with the sofa. "Where the hell are you Diem?"

She left to go to the store a little over – glancing over his shoulder, Sam read the time on a grandfather clock that ticked away in a corner – an hour and thirty minutes ago. Diem was punctual. When she gave a time of arrival, she always met it with minutes to spare. While he didn't want to worry about her being thirty minutes over her estimation, Sam's gut instinct made him a little on edge. Maybe it was just the eeriness of being alone in a house he wasn't familiar with.

Sam sighed. He could hear his brother laughing at him for worrying. If Dean were there he'd tell him to chill out. He'd say that women taking hours to shop was their favorite pastime and Sam would smirk at his brother's oblivious use of a pun. Good thing Dean wasn't there. That _did _ease Sam's mind a smidgen. For the next week it would be just him and Diem. No hunting, no petty arguments, no woes. Only relaxation and bliss.

"SAM!"

The scream ripping from outside made him jump to his feet. His heart leapt to his throat at the sudden jolt. It was Diem's voice calling for him and he heard her running across the unkempt lawn to get to him. She bursted through the door. "SAM!" she screamed once more, frantically twisting her head from side to side to find him.

"What's wrong?" he asked from the living room. He took a few cautionary steps towards her, praying that she wasn't hurt. He didn't see any visible scars but her eyes swallowed her face whole. She was panicking. "Please tell me you're okay."

She stood in the entrance way, pointing outside with her jaw slacked open. Sam waited as she tried to find the words to speak. She looked like she saw a ghost – which he wasn't that farfetched. She rubbed the side of her head probably because her mind was racing with thoughts. Once she figured out what she wanted to say her words came tumbling out so quickly that he almost couldn't decipher them.

"Dean found me at the store and I almost had to run him over to make an escape for it. He's following us so we have about twenty-two seconds to spare. We have to bail like right now. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars."

Sam always thought he was the calm, cool, and collected one between him and Diem. Hell, he thought he was the collected one no matter what hunter he got paired with, but he cracked just as much as Diem did if not worse. The chill that ran shook his body felt like a roll of thunder. His head buzzed the way it would after firing a rifle. With the name of his brother, fight or flight mode began to have a tug of war over Sam's next few actions. He could be a sitting duck and wait to be caught, or-

"Helllllooooo!" Diem's voice stretched across the yards separating them. Sam left his head and settled back into the moment. "Maybe you didn't understand me the first time, but time is of the essence."

Flight won.

"Alright let's leave."

She nodded outside like she knew what his reaction would be before she even pulled into the driveway. "Car's already started." She took off and it didn't take much for Sam to catch up. She was a sloth in speed compared to him. He hopped in the driver's seat. The slam of his door was followed by hers. Sam put the car in reverse and began backing out the driveway. He was almost free.

The screech of a car driving over the speed limit forced Sam to smash his foot on the brakes. Their bodies jerked forward from the sudden halt and the Impala was now unable to leave the driveway. A rusted red pickup truck blocked the exit.

Diem looked in the rearview mirror. Her dark brown eyes squeezed shut when she saw the car. "Nooo," she groaned. She looked over her shoulder then slammed her head against the headrest. "Let's tweak the plan. Drive on the grass and punch it."

Sam was stuck, his body as stiff as a cadaver. He wanted to listen to Diem, but the angry ramblings of his older brother caught his ear and drowned out her pleas. Pair that with the sight of Dean yanking himself from his car and marching up the driveway, that scared Sam more than the average hunt would've. He turned to Diem and said nothing. He could only look to her with remorse. She was a casualty too.

Her brows were furrowed and her words were sharp. "No Sam, we're still in this. There's still time. You just have to do what I say."

With a solemn shake of his head Sam hoped for the best and let the chips fall.

"Son-of-a-BITCH!" Dean caught him. Stomping along Diem's side of the car, he hunched his body until he was face level with the passenger window. His fuming exhale made the glass streak with condensation, his eyes were on fire with betrayal once he caught sight of the two lovebirds trying to make a getaway. Sam sunk a little lower into the front seat with shame. Diem took the drawstrings of her sweatshirt and pulled them tightly, hiding her face beneath its hood to avoid eye contact. This was going to be bad.

"Don't play coy now, Sam, man up. Where's those set of balls you had when you pulled this charade? You look like a damn dog with its tail tucked between its legs." Dean paced back and forth in front of the car, peering into the windshield. He was always great at berating Sam and an expert at making him feel so small. It was the same way John treated the both of them. "Do you how stupid you are for thinking I wouldn't find you. This is my goddamn car, Einstein, I always know where it's at."

"Geez monetti," Diem wheezed out her statement as low as she could. "He is really overreacting right now."

"This isn't even the worst part. Don't say anything or it'll make him more angry. Let him have his moment."

"Did you hear him call you a dog? If anyone's acting like a dog it's him. Cujo needs to respect my house and my neighbors, because everyone on this street is nosy. They're watching this with a bag of popcorn right now. If your brother can't control himself they'll call the cops."

Slamming his hand on the hood of his car, Dean regained all attention back to him. "You think this is funny? I can imagine the good ol' chuckles you two must've had at my expense. You don't touch my car, Sam, and you sure as hell don't let strangers behind the wheel. She could've stolen it! What if _she_ wrecked my baby?" He turned from Sam to Diem. His stare lingered on her for a brief moment and his eyes softened. With the drop of his chin, he lowered his head and squeezed the nape of his neck. John always told them to respect the presence of a woman. Sam watched as Dean realized who he was in the company of and the impression he was giving off.

"You!" Dean bit back through clenched teeth, reeling in his emotions. "I want to talk to you. Can you step out my car?" Huffing a bit, he adding a forced, "please," to the end of his sentence.

"Crap," she said. "What do I do?"

If she got out of the car Sam wouldn't be able to control the situation and he wasn't sure how Dean meeting a girl like Diem would transpire. It was the whole reason why he kept the two away for so long. He hadn't even mentioned his relationship with Diem to his brother and he'd known her for years.

"I'm getting out of the car, Sam," she said as she unfastened her seatbelt. Sam reached out for her but it was too late. She was already gone. "I think I can fix this."

Closing the door, she edged over to Dean, careful not to make any sudden movements. She wore a gentle smile on her face to ease any tension. Dean lowered his eyes and took her into his senses. It was a move that made Sam want to put a stop to whatever plan she had at the moment. Sam didn't want them anywhere near each other. He didn't want them to talk, he didn't want them to be friends, he didn't want them to have a relationship of any variation.

Sam wasn't gonna let this happen. "Dean-"

"Not talking to you right now." Dean pointed a cautionary finger at Sam but kept his eyes fixated on Diem. "I can't seem to talk to my brother here so maybe you can help. Tell me what's going on."

"A few nights ago I called your brother to help me on a case," she replied. Her lie was effortless and believable. The truth was that _he _called _her, _wanting to get away for a week. "There were some vampires around here and I didn't want to go at them alone. Their necks are supposed to be on the chopping block not mine."

"You're a hunter?" Dean scoffed as if it were unbelievable. Sam would later apologize to her for his rudeness. "Why couldn't your partner help you?"

Sam cringed at the question. Diem's partner, Trent, was killed years ago. She said it wouldn't be the same having someone else try to fill his shoes and decided to remain solo.

Dean's question didn't sway her emotions. She handled him with ease. "I haven't had a partner in a while. Let's just say I don't like sharing my radio when I'm driving."

Diem remembered Sam telling her how much of a control freak Dean was with the tunes he played on the open road. This was her making a connection with him and ease whatever apprehensions he had of her. Sam smiled.

"It's driver's choice. Everyone knows that," he said. "Just like everyone knows how hunting alone is a rookie mistake. Get yourself a partner so next time you won't highjack mine."

"It's sweet of you to care, but I know what I'm doing."

"If all this runs true, if you needed help with a case and Sam was the one you turned to then why didn't he tell me that? Why would he go out of his way and make up some hooplah about needing a vacation?"

"Would you have believed him even if he had told you the truth? You were going to chase him down no matter what because as soon as he touched your car it became a matter of pride."

Dean kept quiet for the next few seconds. He clenched his jaw before his lips pursed. Diem put him in checkmate. "You threw a pineapple at me and tried to run me over." Sam contained his laugh. His brother's only option was to switch subjects because telling someone they were right was a rarity from him.

"I freaked out when I saw you, it wasn't one of my best moments," Diem smiled. "As an apology why don't you come inside my house and I'll get you a beer."

"You live here?"

"A girl's gotta have a place to call her own. It even has central air. I'll show you it."

Sam took in Diem's house. It was small and looked identical to every other home on the street. Brown brick, one floor, and as plain as a bagel. She chose to add her own flair with ugly garden gnomes and even a kiddie pool sat on the lawn. Sam was happy for her. When she gave him a tour of her home she couldn't contain her enthusiasm. She said that she'd be damned if she wasn't gonna get her white picket fence someday.

"Instead of you getting me a beer," Dean said with a hint of smirk. Where had his anger gone? "How about I buy you one instead."

Diem took a step back. "What?"

Sam didn't understand either. "Huh?"

The glance Dean gave him was so quick that Sam almost didn't catch it. Diem damn sure didn't see it, she was too busy processing the request. But there was devilish gleam in Dean's eye when he looked towards him and it was sickening. "Have a drink with me."


	4. Drink

Drink

Smoke tangled the bar in hazy ribbons and spicy notes of tobacco tainted the air. My head was light and felt vacant though dizziness hadn't set in yet. I looked towards the flickering light of the candle sitting in a glass holder on the table in front of Dean and I. The dive was dim and every time I tried to see what was across the room my eyes would strain, but I suppose the owner was going for a sexy atmosphere. You couldn't see who was in the booth next to you, but you could make out your date's features.

"Let's get the ball rolling shall we?" Dean's voice broke the monotony and he spoke above the sounds of indie-folk music. His pouty lips were pursed and his tone was inquisitive. "How long have you been sleeping with Sam?"

I tried to play it cool. I tipped my chin up and stared into the neon lights above the bar. "I'm not sure how to answer that. Sam and I don't do a lot of sleeping."

His smile didn't seem quite so sincere, but I had to admit that it didn't lack charm. He threw back a shot of tequila with enough ease that you would think it was luke-warm water. "I suddenly regret asking."

He nudged a shot of tequila my way, and I graciously pushed it back towards him. "I don't drink Tequila."

"I can order you something-"

"I drink wheatgrass or water."

It was as if I had said that I believed that giant purple moon people created the Earth. Dean leaned closer to me with eyes squinted. "You're joking."

"I joke you not."

"Do you mean to tell me that my brother is dating one of those Vegan freaks who wear hemp shirts, have some weird gluten fear, and have bracelets that say make love not war?"

Sam had told me that Dean could be judgmental but this was a bit much. How could he infer all of that from my choice in beverages? I looked him up and down. "I look like a Victoria Secret model and you look like you belong in a King of the Hill episode. Behold the power of wheatgrass." A disgruntled Dean Winchester suddenly straightened from his slouched posture. My words were a stretch of the truth. Dean looked fit, and he was damn handsome, but he could stand to have his ego taken down a few notches. "Besides, Sam and I aren't dating."

I tried to ease the bitterness from my words, but the sinking feeling in my stomach still arrived. It wasn't by my choice. If it were up to me, Sam and I would already have matching tattoos and be laughing about what we would name our first born. Sam just didn't want to commit to me, and rather than questioning it or being insecure about it, I left it alone. If Sam wanted me, he'd come to his senses eventually, right? Why did I still feel like shit about it, then?

I looked over to see Dean laughing at something. At first, I thought he had sensed my deep seeded sadness and was mocking me. Then I realized he was laughing at his own thoughts. "That's a shame. I was hoping that you two were at least dating."

His chuckle rubbed me the wrong way. It felt like sand paper against bare skin, scratching to the bone. "You asked me out to piss off Sam didn't you?"

Another tequila shot followed by him slamming the glass onto the counter with a howl. Dean's smile glistened. "You betcha."

What a petty plan. Sam runs away which hurts Dean's itty bitty feelings. Dean, out of spite, asks the girl he thinks Sam is into out for a drink to hurt Sam's itty bitty feelings. I felt like I was the ball in the first computerized version of ping pong.

"Aww. Take the frown off your face, Diem," Dean said with a hard hit to my shoulder. I hadn't felt my lips turned down in a sour expression until I heard Dean's words. "You at least get to be in my company."

He generously filled my glass up until tequila spilled over onto the table. "Alcohol numbs the pain," he leaned in and whispered into my ear. There was a danger to his voice that made my heart tremble. I suddenly disliked the dark atmosphere that seemed to pin us together. I could smell the liquor tinged with the heaviness of his cologne. I searched his eyes and all I found was temptation. A begging for me to take the drink. To link our sorrows. I felt like Eve being urged to bite the apple.

I clutched the shot and licked my bottom lip. "You've already won, Dean. Sam will be mad at himself and crazy with jealousy when we get back. He'll beg me for every detail and for every word."

"True, but Diem, you'll have nothing to say. I mean you guys aren't even dating. Which is why," he paused and brought my shot glass up to my lips, "you should take a drink."

I was in auto-pilot. Before my inner-self could object, I was tossing back the Tequila and stumbling into old habits.

As it always does, way leads onto way. Shot led onto shot. And before I knew it, my hips were swerving to a deliciously slow tempo and Dean's hands were clutching onto them as if they were threatening to leave. My head felt like it weighed ten times heavier and the dizziness that accompanied it made the lights spin and blur. I laughed at how much I had missed woozy feeling of alcohol and buried my face into Dean's shoulder. "Don't let me go," I breathed into him.

He squeezed and pulled me tighter against him. It was all the answer I needed. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the moment. Didn't second guess his hands exploring my curves.

"Dean," a voice called, just as his hand was about to cup my ass. I was too tired and drunk to open my eyes to inspect who had interrupted the moment.

I felt Dean's chest expand as he inhaled and then let out a low groan. "I'm busy, Castiel. Go away." His words were slurred and tinged with anger. For someone who was only dancing with me to get his brother jealous, he really did seem upset.

"This is urgent."

Dean, with reluctance, unlinked himself from me. My knees wobbled and I had to grasp onto Dean again to regain my balance. "Castull? The angel?" I looked at the man in the trench coat. This was the angel that Sam had talked about? He looked nothing like how Sam had described him.

"Keep it down, Diem," Dean whispered.

"Diem Carpenter and Dean Winchester." Castiel said our names and observed us as if he could see something that we couldn't quite see ourselves. He looked through us, inspecting our souls. I didn't like it a single bit.

"Is that it? Were you going to follow up our names with something or-"

Dean cut me off. "He's strange. Ignore him."

"Don't ignore me. We need to talk. Including Sam."


	5. Twerk

Twerk

Sam was in the middle of eating the leftovers when Diem and Dean appeared in the kitchen spontaneously. His hand flew to the gun stored in his waistband. Alongside the two hunters and the reason for the teleportation trick was Castiel. The angel's usually stoic face appeared somber and it made Sam's mind whirl with dread. He was reluctant to loosen the grip on his gun. Trouble was just around the corner, hoovering like an overcast. Sam could sense it in the cramped kitchen. Why else would Castiel be there?

Diem stumbled to the fridge, yanking open its door. "My stomach is making noises like the impala right now." she grumbled. Her face was hidden behind the stainless steel refrigerator door, but Sam could hear the annoyance in her voice. "All these damn groceries but no food. Let's order pizza."

Castiel stood beneath the archway that lead from the kitchen to the expansive living room. His hand skimmed along the eggshell colored wall and his eyes jumped from place to place. "Your home is well warded, Diem. I detect magic protecting it."

She let out a dry chuckle. "Do you think I'd let an Angel in my house if it wasn't?"

"Why _are_ you here, Cas?" Sam asked.

"I have concerning news."

"No shit." Curling his lip, Dean took a seat at the small dining table across from Sam. He let out a low exhale and Sam could smell the heavy stench of booze on Dean's breath. He smelled like a distillery. "This news better be CNN worthy for you to interrupt me mid-twerk."

Dean's words were horrendous to Sam's ears. He wanted to cringe at how godawful it made him feel. "Twerk?" he repeated and it just didn't feel satisfying against his lips. It made him shudder. Appetite diminishing, he pushed his plate away in disgust. "You twerked on my brother?"

Sam put the spotlight on Diem. Everyone's attention was focused on her and Sam anticipated the answer. She leaned her face from behind the freezer door and her eyes met Sam's. The seconds drifted away while their gazes locked and she said nothing. Pulling her lips into a bashful smile, she winked at him and then went back to rummaging through her refrigerator.

What type of answer was that?

"What is twerk?" Castiel's face soured. "It sounds rather painful."

Dean grinned hard before looking over his shoulder to address the confused Angel. "Trust me, Cas, it ain't."

Sam could feel the space between his lungs tightening and could only mouth soundless words. He didn't want to believe Dean and instead chose to trust the solid foundation of friendship he had with Diem. Their situtionship may have been absent of labels and open at best, but Sam knew she respected him enough to not go after his brother.

He still had to ask. "You didn't twerk on Dean did you?" He sounded like a spiteful boyfriend.

"What do you think?" she slurred, shutting the freezer with a bag of frozen fruit in her hand. Her eyes hung low and her fingers were gripping the kitchen counter for stability. Holding the bag to the back of her neck, her eyes fell shut and her head lolled against the cabinet behind her. "I'm thinking chicken and pineapples on that pizza. Breadsticks too."

Sam's frown tugged even deeper when he noticed Diem's unusual behavior. She didn't feel present in the kitchen with everyone else. It were as if her feet weren't planted firmly onto the ground and she was drifting high amongst the stars.

"Are you drunk?" he screeched. The words came tumbling out before his brain could process the moment.

The question hung in the air like a foul odor. She answered him with silence and much to Sam's chagrin it was Dean who was bold enough to answer.

"Behold." Motioning to Diem like she was trophy shining on a mantle, he smacked his lips triumphantly. "The power of patron."

"I bet you kept that joke in your pocket all night, waiting to use it. You're so lame." she said, barely opening her eyes. "I fucked up, Sam, but don't get mad."

His jaw tensed from how hard teeth clenched. The table rattled from his shaking leg. He couldn't breathe and his chest burned for oxygen as if someone was forcing a pillow over his face. He wanted to scream until his voice vanished and his nails clawed along his jeans to keep from destroying something.

Diem compromised her sobriety for Dean. She disturbed a sleeping tiger for an asshole who couldn't care less about her. He looked at how proudly Dean smiled and prayed for the strength to resist lunging over the table and beating the shit out of him. Dean didn't know what he'd done, how could he have. Sam still placed the blame on his brother's shoulders and he was going to suffer for it.

Their only saving grace at the moment was Castiel's presence. His important news outweighed the temptation of trashing Diem's house. The potential of a case having to be solved would always negate petty feelings. Before Diem's alcoholism, before Dean's treachery, and before Sam's own torment, the job came first.

Exhaling, Sam counted to ten, refocused his attention, and bottled his suffering. "Can you tell us what you came here for, Cas."

"Perhaps I should come back at a time where two of the three hunters aren't inebriated. I am sensing a heavy amount of turmoil."

"Cas," Sam barked. "Please."

"The angels are disappearing," he said. "Along with the Demons."

Lifting onto the hind legs of his chair, Dean balanced himself to keep from falling. "That's all? That's the big hooplah? Excuse me for not seeing the problem here since that only makes our jobs easier."

"I have to admit, originally I thought nothing of it. I attributed these disappearances to the waging war between heaven and hell nothing more, but soon I realized there were no casualties. There were no vacant corpses were to be found. But there were talks amongst the garrison of how these angels and demons left willingly. They chose to abandon Heaven, Hell, and Earth."

"So they went to another dimension," Sam said. "Purgatory, maybe?"

Dean grimaced. "That place doesn't bring in tourists. No one goes there freely."

"The Belcove," Castiel said. It was a name Sam had never heard uttered nor read in any page of any book. "They're residing in The Belcove."

Hopping onto the counter, Diem propped her head between her hands. "The Belcove? Was that the best they could think of it sounds like someone opened a phonebook and picked the first name they saw. It's not very intimidating."

"I've only heard tales of what its like there," Castiel said. "Buildings sculpted of bones, drapes fashioned of flesh. This could all very well be hearsay. Only inhabitants of the Belcove know what it's truly like. Once you're admitted the only form of departure is death."

Dean's eyebrow raised. "So how do you on the V.I.P list?"

"Beelzebub invites you himself. You swear your undying allegiance to him. He's the Shepherd herding the flock."

"Oh shit, you mean like Lord of the Flies? I read that book." Diem covered her mouth to prevent from laughing. "A shipwrecked crew of white boys all went cuh-razy on an island."

Beelzebub? Sam always believed that was just another one of Lucifer's monikers. It'd never crossed his mind to believe they were separate entities. They were dealing with something old and powerful.

"Can we kill him?" Sam asked.

"He's an Angel, so an Angel killing blade may work," Castiel said. "Though the notion sounds less tedious than it is."

"Alright so we'll summon him and gank the son of a bitch. Consider it done." Dean was more preoccupied balancing in his chair than the case. He was flippant with his remarks as if nothing struck fear in his heart anymore. "We've gone against worst."

"Look at all that misplaced cockiness," Diem replied. "That type of bravado gets idiots killed."

"You afraid of a little death, sweetheart?"

"To be fair this death would be particularly gruesome," Castiel said. "The worst to date rest assured. He'd make a spectacle out of you in front of the masses."

"Stop blowing smoke up his ass," Dean said. "Sam will find the ritual we need to summon him and after that ."

"You won't find the ritual," Cas said. "I've already scoured the Earth for it and there's only one person who has it and they won't hand it over for free."

Sam's brows furrowed, knowing whoever had the spell was where they were headed first. "Who has it?"

"Crowley."


	6. Quarrels

**Thanks for reading. Comment with your thoughts. **

**Quarrels**

Dean's mind seemed to be on the same page as Diem's.

"You don't look like an angel, Beelzebub," she said. The barrel of her shotgun followed the Angel's every move as he took in her house. The couch space between them was limited and every now and then they'd nudge each other to make room. "You look like someone who plays too much Fallout on their Xbox."

"Xbox? Damn, girl, when you cut it's to the bone." Beelzebub inspected the knickknacks in the living room. He was a hefty man. One who drank a little too much beer. His belly protruded over his faded Levis. His hair was brown and curly. He wore a shirt that proclaimed Bazinga! beneath a grey wool peacoat even though it was the end of Summer. He looked like an overage college student that supplied fellow undergrads with weed and molly. This was the supposedly fearsome Angel? Dean felt short changed.

The Enochian symbols written in blood caught Beelzebub's attention. The summoning spell was handed over by Crowley himself free of charge which was concerning to say the very least. The King of Hell never did anything out of the graciousness of his heart. Something wasn't adding up.

"Crowley, you snitch." Beelzebub touched the spell and a smile touched his lips that was concealed by a thick groomed beard. "Is the Imprisoning Sigil needed? We can speak this over amicably without trapping me in here with no powers."

Sam laughed and it was the first time Dean saw his brother smile within the past few days. He hadn't spoken a word to anyone, but would give a death glare in between his cold shouldering. It wasn't like his brother to give the silent treatment, he usually chose to purge out emotions, but for him to take a vow of silence meant that he was pissed. Dean felt like a piece of shit clinging to a hog's ass. He didn't know Diem was an alcoholic.

"You give us answers to our questions and we'll keep the peace," Sam said, holding up the wall he leaned against.

"Bub's the name. Beelzebub is so old school and it makes-" His sentence stopped abruptly as his stare dropped to the coffee table he stood before. Picking up what caught his interest, a black journal with tarnished pages, he admired it through thickly framed hipster glasses. It was love at first sight. "Holy shit, I never thought I'd see this again. This is the most vintage doctrine on angelology and demonology there is. Motherfucking legendary. Which one of you lucky bastards is the owner."

Dean hadn't seen the book in his life so he knew it wasn't his or Sam's. Maybe it belonged to Diem. Looking for an answer, he tapped her knee with his. She shook her head slightly and a red flag waved frantically in his mind. It didn't belong to any of them.

"You don't ask the questions." Dean diverted everyone's attention, twirling an angel killing blade between his fingers. His palms were itching to kill Bub and skip the trivial small talk. "You're in our ballpark so you don't make the demands. We're playing Oprah."

"Can I just say that I was so bummed out when I heard she was ending her show." Sitting indian style in a old recliner, Bub sighed. "Sure, she went on to make a great network but things just aren't the same, man. When you lose something iconic, someone else has to fill the voice but no one can replace Oprah. She's too dope. It's like replacing Lucifer as the king of hell with Crowley."

"You sound bitter that he sold you out," Sam said, "There must be bad blood between you, he gave up the summoning spell without much fuss."

"Not mad at all. His men are willingly leaving Hell to join the Belcove so why wouldn't he sell out the competition," he said, still flipping through the pages of the journal. "I paved the road he walks on. Who do you think is responsible for the blueprints to his kingdom back when Lucifer ran shit? He's paranoid and thinks I want to watch it crumble because that's something in his playbook. It's all business so I can't knock the hustle."

Diem groaned in disgust. "You sound like Macklemore. Stop talking like that before I get irritated."

"Diem Carpenter," Bub said her name with constellations in his eyes. They were twinkling with glee. She didn't fold beneath the pressure of his gaze, but Dean gripped her thigh just for safe keeping. "Fun fact, Jesus was a carpenter too. I'm sure you all have heard great stories about him."

"Let's we kill him and get it over with."

Dean nodded. "My thoughts exactly."

"This is what's going to happen kiddos," Bub chuckled, slamming shut the journal he leafed through. He tossed it back where he found it like it no longer interested him. "We're going to nix the shenanigans of killing me because I'm not so keen on dying, and we're going to strike up a deal."

Diem cocked her shotgun. "There's no fun in that. I kind of want to see the pointy end of the blade go into your chest."

"What deal?" Sam asked.

Dean frowned. His brother was always the middle man. "Don't humor him."

"You're right, let's just recklessly kill someone who's King of another realm and worry about the consequences later like morons," Sam bit back. His shoulders were bunched to his ears and his arms were folded over his chest. He didn't bother looking a Dean whilst he spoke either. Did he think he was the one who called the shots? "Let's hear him out."

Why? What was the point of going through the back and forth if the result was going to be the same no matter what. Dean stood and blocked in Sam's line of vision, forcing them to look at each other after days of avoidance. "That's a waste of time."

Lifting himself off the wall, Sam was a bull with rage in his eyes as he stomped to Dean. "You tracking me down since you have nothing better to do is the definition of a waste of time. This is strategy, it's logic, not that I would expect you to understand that."

Bub chortled with glee, hitting the arms of his chair with excitement. "Oooooooooh! You gonna take that, Dean?"

Diem's laugh followed. It was her laughter that spiked the adrenaline inside of Dean. He felt like an angsty teen after hearing her laughter. All he wanted to do was curl up and die. He didn't want her to think he was weak.

"Keep it up, Sammy, and it'll be you who gets ganked with this." He was sick of dealing with Sam's shit. He'd be damned if his little brother insulted him like that and he definitely wasn't going to get bitched in front of company. He wouldn't be the laughing stock tonight. Stepping closer to his brother, Dean pointed the blade over Sam's heart. He gave his chest three hard pokes. "You. Got. That. Bitch?"

There was a crack that pierced the air. It wasn't deafening, but it definitely was forceful enough to make the room go quiet except for a high pitched ringing in his ears. It sounded like the crunching noise you heard when you trampled on dead leaves in Autumn. It was followed by a pain so bad, Dean staggered backwards. His jaw throbbed. Tears blurred his vision. Root canal's were less painful.

Sam punched him.

Rage took over Dean, pumping through him like blood. He swung viciously at his brother, putting everything he had into that one punch. He collided with nothing but air as he was pulled back. Diem hugged his waist and though she was smaller then him, she had enough strength to yank him aside.

"Stop!" she shouted, running to Sam who stood ready and willing to throw blows. Diem put her hand on Sam's chest and separated the distance between him and Dean. "What the fuck, Sam, you can't just hit your brother like that."

"You've known him for only days and you're automatically taking his side." Sam pushed away her hand. "Why are you defending someone you don't even know?"

"I'm not defending him. You're forcing my hand here. Whatever bullshit you both have going on is your business, but you can't go all Apollo Creed in here. This is a democracy. Numbers is the name of the game and right now it's two against one."

"I'm not playing into that crap. Not when you've been making piss poor choices lately."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You got drunk with my brother!" Sam's voice became the loudest in the room. His chest heaved violently like a wild animal's and Dean watched his brother let loose all the rage he'd been containing. His hands ripped through his hair and the sight of him barking at a woman wasn't a good look. "You compromised your sobriety for Dean Winchester of all people. So no, Diem, you don't get the luxury of a vote. Your opinion doesn't goddamn matter."

"I don't have a vote in my own home? Have you lost your mind? You don't come into my house telling me what I can and cannot do. Who the fuck do you think you are? My daddy?"

"Daddy, huh?" Sam's face was cold except for the mocking smirk that crawled onto his face. Lowering his head, their faces were so close Dean thought they'd kiss. "Wouldn't be the first time you've called me that."

Diem hit Sam with the punch Dean wanted to give him. It was lightning strike fast, so Dean figured it was reflexes that took over her body. She hit him good in the nose, his head hit the wall behind him due to the force.

Wow.

She stepped to the side, looking over her shoulder to address Dean who was clenching his jaw. Immediately he saw the tender frown on her lips and the hurt in her eyes. He hoped she didn't cry. He hated seeing a woman cry. Damn, she needed a hug. "Whoop his ass, Dean."

"They like each other, Sam." Bub laughed. For a moment, he was the forgotten one, a fly on the wall listening in on all the drama. "I know it's hard for you to process because it's so damn sudden, but their attraction was instant and you don't stand a chance. The harder you try to stop it, the more they'll want each other. But I think you know that."

"That's it." Gripping the blade in his hand, Dean charged towards the sitting Angel. "You're dead."

"Try that if you want to, but I have fifty-seven and a half angels and demons surrounding this house ready to fuck some shit up big time if even a single hair from my gooch doesn't make it out of here safely." Bub said, stopping Dean mid step. "And just in case you're wondering, yes we have a little person in the Belcove and yes he is the half. You all may have your lover's quarrels clouding your judgement right now, but I'm going to drop a serious bomb right now. I want nothing to do with Earth. I want nothing to do with Heaven. I want nothing to do with Hell. The Belcove is where I reside and we're all about keeping the peace. No harm will come from us unless you initiate it. They would've killed you all the moment you threatened me if that were the case."

The three of them, arguing or not, couldn't take on fifty-eight angels and demons. That would've been foolish, a suicide mission. Containing his snarl, Dean concealed his weapon. Whether he liked it or not he was at the mercy of the douchebag Angel. "You previously mentioned a deal. What was it?"

"None of the inhabitants of the Belcove set foot on Earth, I'm talking Angels and Demons alike. You don't have to worry about them harming a hunter or a human so long as I'm still allowed to set foot here from time to time. I need to be able to invite a few demons and such to my side of town but that's strictly business and then I'm outtie. All you have to do is keep me alive and let me go."

"Everyone under you will stay off Earth?" Diem sniffled. "If they don't I'll kill them off one by one and it won't be pretty.

"I'll hand them over to you myself."

Dean still wasn't convinced. "I don't trust you."

"Look at me, bro," he said. Holding his hands out to his face, he smiled innocently like a child. "I wouldn't hurt a fly."

Doing what his brother wanted him to do all along, Dean took the deal. There wasn't any other option, but it was a fucking chore for him to wipe away the the sigil and set the fat bastard free. The angel disappeared, but not before annoyingly departing with, "dueces,", leaving the three broken hunters alone with each other.

"I should've never come here. It was a mistake." Sam said, turning his back on Diem and Dean. "Tomorrow, Dean and I will be gone."


	7. Deceit

Thank you for reading.

**Deceit**

"Slower," Sam commanded.

He leaned the back of his head into the couch. Every ounce of anger, rejection, and bitterness was being pulled down the center of his spine. He relished in the moment. Craved to stay in this land of momentary bliss forever. Sadly, he knew it would only last minutes. This was something he would savor. She was going too fast. He wanted her jaw to ache tomorrow.

His eyes rolled shut. The sight of Diem trying to deep throat him caused every muscle in his body to clench tightly. Crazy how God could make such beautiful lips do such dirty things.

She did as she was told. Her rhythm became a throbbing beat. Her movements were careful and deliberate. Every circle of her tongue was intoxicating. He wheezed out a low moan, grabbing her by the top of her ponytail. Each bob of her head felt like was trying to swallow his soul. He wondered if she thought she could make love with only her mouth.

Then she stopped.

His eyes ripped open and glanced down at the brunette who had settled for using her hand to do a job only a throat could do.

"What?" he asked, unsatisfied with the switch.

"Do you want to leave?" she asked with a smile that made him stiffen.

That had been the her third time asking that night. The first time, was when she had taken off her shirt and releasing her gorgeous breasts from its bra. They had bounced right out, joyful to be free. Even though she had clearly seen how turned on the action had made him, he still denounced her and told her yes.

The second time had been a little more than ten minutes ago. She asked, on her knees, pinning her hair back into a sloppy ponytail, if he was leaving. He was still reserved and declared yes. But when she asked if she could suck his dick, he couldn't help but nod his head, very curtly. That deserved a yes, as well.

Now there they were. Diem had worked her voodoo. Did Sam want to leave? Absolutely. But did he really? Business had to be finished. He couldn't just leave a job half-done.

"I'll stay," he breathed.

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course."

She grabbed his hand and placed it where hers had been.

"Prove it. Stay and let's go back to normal. You jack off, I go shower, and you stay, okay."

He wanted to growl at her to just shut up and go back to work. Instead, he witnessed the sadness behind her eyes. He wasn't that guy. Someone who used girls for sex. They liked each other. He didn't want to use her. His need for her to release him wasn't as strong as his need to protect her.

"Okay," was all he could say. She stood, kissed his forehead, and headed to the bathroom.

"Put some ice on your nose. Get some sleep when you're done. I'm gonna shower and take a walk to clear my mind."

Sam wanted to protest but couldn't. She shouldn't be walking around at night alone with Bub on the loose. And she'd taken a drink! After a year of hard sobriety she had just fallen right back off the wagon. Off the wagon and onto Dean. So she could impress him with her twerking skills or something. Why hadn't Dean stopped her? Was Bub right?

With all the thoughts swirling in his head, he felt the head in his hand soften.

This was all Dean's fault.

...

"He's staying," Diem said, taking a seat beside him on the creaky bed. She shuffled and gazed around the flea bag of a room Dean made his home. The TV still had antennas on it. He doubted he'd be catching the Dr. Sexy marathon.

"How'd you convince him?" His brother was a hard headed rascal. There was only one way that Diem could pull a trick like that off. The image of her seducing Sam and having sex with him seared his retinas.

"Did you have sex with him?"

She winced and smacked her lips.

"Are you trying to imply that the only was he'd stay is if I fucked him."

He stood up. Of course she had. That was low of her. "You're disgusting."

Dean's face scrunched as if he'd taken a lick of lime and vinegar. "That's my _brother._"

"Yeah, well, that's my boyfriend."

"I thought you weren't dating," he said. The role she played in Sam's life dawned on him. "I thought you were both playing house."

"I don't get how that's your business."

He reflected on what Bub had told them. That they were instantly attracted to each other.

"Do you..." he stammered, searching for a good word as he poured himself a drink, "... find me … appealing to the eye?"

She laughed. "Is this about what Bub said?"

"Yes. Now answer."

Her chocolate eyes scanned him up and down. He was tempted to flex his muscled, but instead he dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

She shrugged. "Sure. You're hot and you have a nice smile."

He grinned, forgetting himself. "Thanks. Chicks really dig the smile."

"What about me?" she asked and just by her light tone he knew she was smiling. "Do you find me attractive?"

He didn't beed to look at her to answer. So he didn't. He downed his shot and pained another. "Yup," he said through the alcohol's burn. Diem was the kinda girl he'd dream of fooling around with on lonely night. Curvy with a little tone. Rough around the edges. You could take her to a burger joint instead of a five-star restaurant. Sure, she'd probably insist on getting tofu instead of a real meat, but that was okay. The laughter, the sparks... it would make it worth it.

Down went the second shot as he relinquished the memory of her ass grinding against him. He could've sworn in that moment that only the two of them existed, and that she wanted him. You like that? was the question those hips were asking, and Dean had a part of his own body that would've answered if Cas hadn't interrupted.

"Okay," Diem said, her hand grabbing his shoulder.

Dean looked to her. "What?"

"You just downed five shots."

He hadn't noticed, but now that she mentioned it, he could suddenly feel that familiar sway in his head.

"Sam and I are dating, Dean, and I like him. Like a lot. I won't jeopardize that."

Dean looked into her eyes. She seemed truthful enough, but he was still a little apprehensive.

"I think you're hot. That's all. Nothing more."

She reached for the tequila bottle, but Dean grabbed ahold of it before she could.

"None for you," he whispered. They held a tug a war with the bottle. He snatched it in his direction and drew her closer to him. "You're supposed to be a sober chick."

"And you care what I am...why?"

Dean thought it over. He had no reason to he be protective, despite not wanting her to drink. The thought that Bub might be right won, and so he handed her the bottle. She took a chug straight from the plastic.

"I can't drink anymore now, because I know where your mouth has been."

"From how you act, your mouth has been there too."

"Whatever." he sneered. "Bub's a liar."

"What do you expect, that's what his kind do. Lie, and murder, and stir up trouble for no good reason," she said, running her hand over the dingy blanket on his bed. "Make this your last night sleeping in this filth. You can stay with me."

"And be forced to hear you and my younger brother fuck? I'll pass."

"Fine, but feel free to cash in the offer once your spine feels like shit against this cardboard mattress. God only knows who's fucked on this."

"You willing to go behind Sam's back just to put a stop to him?" Dean asked. This was a serious thing they were about to do. They were risking Sam's trust. Not only that, they were going against an Angel who they hardly knew how to kill. "You ready for this?"

"Bub is powerful and has to be stopped before we're officially up shit creek." She took a final swig from the bottle, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "We don't have a choice, partner."

Throwing his arm around her shoulder, he grinned. "Well then rest up, kiddo, tomorrow we've got a case to crack."


End file.
